Doorstep Gifts
by kyunyo
Summary: This was the fourth time Shinichi found a criminal drooling on his doorstep and he's not happy about it. -KaiShin-
1. one

A/N: Ahjasdk, this will be my first actual chaptered story here. TuT;; I'm kind of nervous putting it up since I suck at writing chapters or plot related stuff. -lesighs-;; But anyways yea!

Thanks to my lovely betas for helping me with this! I super appreciate you all! Hope you guys enjoy it! :D

Warnings!: Mentions of Violence. :D

–

One

–

_"Your face is…" It was a breathless whisper in the library as his hand ghosted over the patch of skin. He swallowed thickly. "You're hurt again."_

_Shinichi winced, withdrawing away from his hand. The bruise was an ugly clot of purple on the underside of his jaw. Judging by the coldness of his face, the detective had an ice bag on before he came to the library. His wandering hand was lightly pushed away by bandaged fingers._

_"I'm fine, okay? I have a paper to finish."_

_He hesitated slightly and dropped his hands to his side. Pulling on his signature bright smile, he leaned over the detective's shoulder._

_Shinichi went rigid as he hovered close, but he ignored him and continued typing. Wordlessly, he peeked at the computer screen. It was a thesis for some kind of class. He wasn't that interested._

_"Something happened yesterday at the stakeout, Kudou?"_

_"There was a thief," Shinichi started, eyes never leaving the screen, and hands tapping at the keyboard in spurts. He paused and then deadpanned._

_"He tied me up."_

_The typing resumed, and his gaze idly fell from the detective's screen to the thin bandaged wrists resting on the keyboard._

_"Ah… Is that so…?"_

–

my eyes can't see

–

"Another one?" the phone sounded in curiosity. He brought two fingers to his temples to massage away the impending headache.

"Yes. Please send an officer, Megure-keibu. I'm sorry for calling so early in the morning, you must have it rough."

There was laughter bordering the gruff voice. The inspector sounded far too energetic for six in the morning. "Not a problem, Shinichi-kun. As long as the culprit is caught, long hours are worth it."

The phone went dead as his arm fell towards his side. Shinichi idly glanced at the bound and gagged man sitting in front of his door. The rope wound around the criminal's thick mid-section and held his arms tightly behind him. With a dress shoe, the college student nudged the body that shifted and groaned in protest.

With slight difficulty, Shinichi crouched low behind him and gripped his wrist, relieved that he found a steady pulse amidst the almost suffocating ropes. That was good– he didn't want his doorstep to become a grave.

"Hasegawa-san, so we meet again. Glad you're still alive."

The last time Shinichi had seen him was when he re-examined the case files of a week-old triple murder case with a mug-shot messily taped inside– which was when the police deemed him well enough to examine evidence after his stay in the hospital for a very, very minor and shallow slash on his leg due to attempted murder by said man.

Crutches for a few days while the skin healed wasn't that bad. Those clunky metal things never bothered him when he worked around the clock to track the man down. And now after a painful game of cat and mouse, he was here.

Sapphire eyes quickly scanned him.

A few bruises, maybe a twisted something, since that arm did look like it was jutting out wrong– oh, was that blood on his lip? Probably the work of internal bleeding. Well, however injured he was, the man was deposited on his doorstep. There was a slightly bitter twitch at the corner of his mouth. Although Shinichi didn't believe the _"eye-for-an-eye"_ theory, he felt oddly satisfied at the damage done and also a bit upset at the inflictor of these wounds.

"At least you're not dead."

But honestly, this had been the fourth time that it happened. He stood near the criminal until he heard the faint yelp of the police sirens nearby.

After the sound of slamming car doors and clinks of handcuffs, Shinichi bid the officer good night, despite the rising sun, and slowly headed back into the comforts of the Kudou House.

To say that Shinichi was unruffled at being woken up at five by an incessant pounding on his door was an understatement. He was grumpy as hell, but his eyelids wouldn't slide shut for the remaining hours before he headed to school. Shinichi kicked on his fluffy slippers and limped back to the kitchen to brew himself an entire pot of coffee.

Now that he was awake, he couldn't sleep.

Shinichi shuffled to the library and sat with his steaming mug in his hands. He stared absently at the books lining the wall, eyes tracing a path from the top to bottom–

He sipped and rolled the hot liquid on his tongue, mind tracking back on the history of this particular incident.

Fourth time in a span of three months.

The first time it happened was with a serial thief that managed to tie Shinichi down and whack him around a bit until he bruised and slipped into unconsciousness. Within a few days– and a _few_ since Shinichi had a very important thesis to finish for school– the culprit was left severely bruised and wrapped in a net on his front door.

At the time, Shinichi didn't question how he got there or who had the incentive to be a rogue vigilante. Instead, he basked in an extreme sense of satisfaction that swelled in his chest as the police herded the traumatized culprit into the car.

A few weeks later, when Shinichi was walking home from the University Library, he saw and identified the second culprit. The second was a suspect in a case whom Shinichi had finally found evidence to incriminate.

However on that afternoon, he was pinned to a wall, beaten, and had said evidence taken from his bag while he had concrete in his face. Not a day later, Shinichi woke to a yell from the side of his house wall. He peered out the window and took in the flattering amount of duct tape around the mummified suspect. The stolen evidence was taped onto the silver body wrap.

Shinichi began to drop some info about the odd vigilante to the police. Megure-keibu was pleasantly surprised but waved a hand and said that as long as none of the culprits die, it's fine– but there could be serious charges pressed against the offender for attacking a civilian– criminal or not. Shinichi raised a brow when Megure-keibu sauntered away, muttering, "Hope we don't catch him."

The third was not that long ago. Some kind of serial molester. The college detective wasn't that clear on the actual case–since those things tended to disgust him– but he helped the police arrest the offender. Little did he know, the criminal had a partner who, in an enraged fit, attacked Shinichi in the middle of his passing to classes, thoroughly harassed him and left him half-conscious and shaking in a dirty alleyway near the gym.

Somehow, when he became conscious again, he found himself back at home in fresh clothes. He was relieved that he was just a bit tousled and not a victim. He was fine for the most part except he's found himself with a few more scrapes and bruises.

The following night-morning, there was a quiet knock on his window. Upon opening it, he found a small tin can of salve for his bruises and heard the faint sound of a muffled groan.

The man was tied upside down to a tree, nearly naked and shivering in the night's cold and rain– but it wasn't raining, was it? Couple that with a hot pink paint trail scribbled on his body– "DISGUSTING RAPIST" it had said. When Shinichi called the police, Megure-keibu came by, took a look and then snorted.

"What's so funny?" Shinichi had asked– okay, the display was funny as hell, but after a while of watching the man, it turned quickly into pity.

"This style–" The trench-coat inspector waved his hand at the set of water sprinkles that were conveniently placed around the tree– and that Shinichi didn't remember installing. "Nice touch; flashy but nice. It's quite aggressive, wouldn't you say?"

"Keibu, if you haven't noticed this guy nearly has hypothermia–"

"Yes, yes, Shinichi-kun," he said with a sigh but a smile lingered on the side of his mouth. With that same lopsided grin, he told his men to take the man out of his misery. The police he came with sniggered under their breaths while they untied the criminal from the tree.

"Great touch with the sprinklers, I wouldn't have done it better–"

"Considering that it was _him_, you can't do better–"

Shinichi had caught bits and pieces of their conversation, but never questioned who they were actually talking about.

Instead, he was preoccupied with how _calm_ Megure-keibu was. Although the man was indeed a molester (and had his share in ruffling Shinichi a bit), this little prank had gone too far. Shinichi vocally disapproved of the vigilante and his extreme measures of tying the criminal to the tree. But the police officers only kept their mouths shut and snorted through their noses.

And this time– this fourth time– Megure-keibu was curious and amused, maybe a tad bit disappointed since he wasn't able to come over and escort the man personally. But all in all, it was something that the inspector should _not_ be sounding like.

Shinichi curled into his seat and wiggled his cold toes experimentally.

Well, whatever the case, this vigilante who has had amused nearly the entire police force– sans him of course– was slowly starting to irritate him– and maybe pique his interest, but irritate him more like. In Shinichi's book, this vigilante was insulting the official justice (and him) in Japan. The police (and him) were fully capable of capturing the criminals. This was mockery and the police down at the station didn't even have half the mind to be as offended as he was–

The grandfather clock situated in his hall chimed seven and with a groan, Shinichi pulled himself up and away from the plush armchair. Right, he forgot that he had some classes to go to in the early morning. And afterwards, he had to compare English notes with his half-British acquaintance.

He stood up and stretched, hearing the satisfying but loud pops and clicks in his back.

He wobbled slightly. His leg was still somewhat sensitive to the strain since it was still healing, but it was nothing life-threatening. Shinichi seriously didn't understand why everyone was making a fuss for him to stay in the hospital and then use crutches after he was released.

Shinichi brought a hand to hold the side of his face. Bandages that held his skin together dotted on his forehead and the underside of his jaw.

He had another violent run-in just the day before. Shinichi was always prone to waltzing into trouble and this was one of the many times he was beaten senseless for trying to stop a criminal single-handedly– sure, he was man enough to defend himself, but it was just that at the moment there lacked a round object that could serve as his choice of weapon.

And so, more times than not, he found himself face first on the ground. And as Ran put it, she was surprised that after so many beatings, he still maintained a fairly attractive face– some even think the bandages added a whole new level of coolness to his image.

He took a step and nearly forgot that he couldn't put all his weight on the injured foot–_ shit, what the hell is this._ He would've collapsed if his hand hadn't grappled the chair for support. His leg was screaming pain– oh, okay, maybe it wasn't such a great idea to provoke the guy yesterday in throwing a chair at him.

(He barely dodged the flying chair, but it pulled the recovering muscles in his leg. Which sort of sucked since he couldn't really walk properly.)

Shinichi mentally chided himself and proceeded to shuffle towards the bathroom.

After a daze of reflecting the past few months, he had found himself sitting at the front step before his door, slipping on his shoes with an aching slowness that only the pain in his muscles caused.

Today will be another one of those days…

–

"You look terrible as always."

There was a slight cringe on Shinichi's part before he wrapped his hands around the warm paper coffee cup.

"Kinda accidentally bumped into a hostage situation yesterday–"

"So I've heard. And you just got off the crutches not too long ago." There was a sigh in front of him and a clink of a porcelain teacup against a dish.

"Kudou, you sort of don't just bump into these things." His acquaintance lifted a fine brow with something like a light snort. "As detectives, we trust logic and science, but I really suggest that you ask Koizumi to lift that curse on you."

"Haha, that's really funny, Hakuba." Shinichi's lips twisted into a smile for a brief moment as his fingers went to trace the rim of the rectangular table. "Could be a curse, or maybe Lady Luck just hates me."

"But her husband loves you," the blond detective muttered under his breath, as his hand idly tapped the porcelain cup handle. Shinichi's ears perked at his strange utterance and he stared at his colleague for a while, blinking curiously.

"Eh–?"

The blond leaned back casually in his seat and coughed once. His hand tapped rhythms against the cup. "So, what leads did you get on the criminal?"

"Not much…" Shinichi distractedly looked in the direction of the cashier in the coffee shop. It was embarrassing to admit his inability to apprehend the suspect. The criminal was _right _there in front of him when he was locked in the room with the other hostages. "I couldn't confirm the evidence. He escaped after… you know, leaving me half for dead."

"I thought as much." Hakuba had this knowing tilt of his head as he nodded, eyes shut in a sage-like manner. "Mm, then we can expect a present tomorrow–"

"Doesn't it piss you off, Hakuba?" the detective suddenly snapped, hand almost slamming the half-empty paper cup onto the table. Hakuba gave him an incredulous look. "I mean, don't you think what he's doing is just humiliating us as detectives?"

The young adult pinched his chin with his fingers, scarlet-brown eyes rolling up to examine the ceiling light. "Well, my door isn't the drop off point for these gifts, so I'll say– no."

Hakuba gave him a polite smile that Shinichi returned with an annoyed glare.

With analytical eyes, the half-British studied Shinichi's ruffled expression before he sighed dramatically. "I've heard that you were dense, but _really_?"

"What?" It was a sharp snap with curiosity underlining it. Shinichi's hand was now fidgeting with the cup, and his fingers were seriously itching to choke that bastard who had that disappointed look on his face for some _goddamn reason– _

"Kudou, it's as plain as day, the whole task force knows, even _Megure-keibu_ knows–"

"What?"

Hakuba shrugged as he took a delicate sip of his tea. "Why your valiant vigilante is doing the things he is doing–"

Shinichi glared. Besides humiliating the police and him– since Shinichi was completely and perfectly competent in apprehending criminals– the vigilante didn't seem to have any other good reason for capturing his criminals and leaving them in outrageous and cruel positions on his doorstep.

"Would you care to enlighten me, Hakuba_-tantei_?" Shinichi hissed, thoroughly annoyed. Hakuba gave one of those conceited and conniving smirks before he tapped his pocket watch with a finger.

"Can't. I'm afraid I have a meeting down at the headquarters." The detective pulled his scattered notes together and stood up from the café table. He started shoveling his papers into a folder and then into a briefcase. Shinichi curiously watched him pack away his papers–

"Meeting?"

"About the hostage situation that you were tied up in yesterday. I was emailed the details just this morning. Megure-keibu wants me to help out with the stakeout. We found where he's hiding–"

"And I wasn't informed of this?" Shinichi asked, offended and half-rising out from his chair. The abandoned teacup clattered when Shinichi's knee hit the table. He was half choking on his words and from the tingle in his leg– "I was on the team–"

"And when they took you home– you were half-dead, mind you– everyone agreed to remove you from the investigation," Hakuba continued professionally. He pocketed his watch into his suit. "Your leg was their main concern. They needed someone who was more physically capable, so that what happened yesterday wouldn't repeat."

Shinichi wordlessly stared as Hakuba snapped the pack shut with a finalized click. The blond lifted his eyes to meet his wide and disbelieving gaze.

An apologetic– but not really– smile lifted his lips. "Please don't take offense, Kudou. If the culprit sees you again, who knows what he'll do to get revenge on you. It's only a matter of precaution that we have you off the team–"

He found his voice again, but it came out quiet. "Revenge? But I didn't–"

"He has a personal grudge on you, Kudou." Hakuba gave a light smile before he turned to leave. "You really would want to stay out of trouble. Perhaps pray for a guardian angel to watch over you until we close the case."

There was something in the way he smiled, like he knew something Shinichi didn't, and Shinichi hated it.

The stupid blond was spiting him.

With a sudden stab in his chest, he downed the last mouthful of coffee and grabbed his backpack to head toward the library.

–

A/N: Ugu. TuT Hope this is okay. -rolls everywhere and off;;;-

Ohright.

Should I say that Shinichi gets beaten up a lot? yeah. 8D Shhh don't run away guys. If anything I can promise a happy ending, yes. 8D;;;


	2. two

A/N: Ahghasdjs guys thank you so much for reading and reviewing! ;_; It made me very happy to know that this fic is well recieved! TuT And thank you all for your reveiws so, so much. -throws loves in buckets at everyone.- -hugshugs-

Anyways here is the next chapter!

Rated T for...violence, heh.; I mean. Yeah. And swearing, sort of extreme swearing. Not for the faint of heart. ouo/ But anyways, hope that this chapter is okay! TuT;;

–

Two

–

_There was a loud bang at his table and he looked up from his work. _

_"Kudou?" _

_Said detective had run in almost frantically with a hand cradling his face, mouth spitting a string of small curses. The small crowd in the study area looked up to stare at them, but more so at the shaken college student that had just crashed through the silence and plopped his bag open in front of him–_

_"Where is it, where is it–" Shinichi was digging for something that he might have stuck in his usually neat folders. His hands flipped through already shuffled and bent papers. He was tearing his notes and books out from his bag and emptying them in an unflattering mound on the table. _

_He was distractingly watching the pile grow before his eyes wandered up to the detective's face. There was a bright red and swelling bruise on his face– "O-Oi, Kudou–?"_

_"Goddammit, it's gone–" he collapsed into the chair next to his. With a disappointed sigh, he mumbled and fisted the bangs on his forehead, "Damn bastard took it–"_

_He silently watched as the detective threw his belongings into his pack with a careless yet frustrated fling of his hand._

–

think I may be losing it

–

"Hey, Kudou. You're as busy as usual–"

Shinichi's head slowly lifted up and away from his library book. A body slid smoothly into the space beside him, bracing an arm against the uneven and old bookshelves. He held in a sigh as his grip on the book tightened considerably.

This bastard was as annoying as always and his pep and cheer was grating on his ears. He didn't want to deal with him today. He closed the book quietly and returned it to the space on the shelf.

"Shut up, Kuroba."

The detective's slim hand brushed against the towering bookshelves as he distractedly tried to find a different author and also get away from the other adult who was tailing him.

"What are you looking for?" The hum sounded too loud in the library and Shinichi discreetly took a few steps away from him, half-wishing he'd go away and not _pester–_

Shinichi's chin was grabbed and turned. From the earthy colors of the book spines, his vision switched with that of a similar face and large, curious blue eyes. The silence stretched and Shinichi started counting down until the stillness was broken– this is why he didn't like pesky people, they always asked the most annoying questions–

"Where did these come from now?" His eyes softened a bit and Shinichi felt his face being analyzed by those dark blue eyes– he whacked the hand away with a harsh slap.

He drew back, stumbled on his once-injured leg before he took another step to ease his weight off. Shinichi's hand rose to hide his face from those prying eyes.

"It's none of your business."

His friend faltered a bit but took a step forward, hand reaching out to lightly touch Shinichi's shoulder–

"Of course it is! We're friends–" There was an edge of desperation to his voice, but Shinichi chose to ignore it– why should he care what happened to his face? Give or take a few days, the cuts and bruises would be gone and he'd be better–

"Well, I'm busy right now, so I don't have time to chat. Just leave me alone–" Shinichi spat heatedly, more venomous than usual. There was a moment's pause and tension hung in the air. He lifted his eyes from the shelf right beside Kaito's arm. He had thought his words would cut more deeply, but only quiet contemplation settled in his normally laughing eyes.

Kuroba Kaito lifted his arms to his chest, crossed them, leaned back against the bookshelf Shinichi was currently plucking books from, and _stared_ with a quietness that sent chills down Shinichi's spine.

"You're in a bad mood."

Shinichi wondered how that simple statement was enough to nearly bring that familiar sting to his nose and shake his breathing into a watery tremble. He took a sharp breath and swallowed, opting to turn his harsh gaze towards the books once more.

Silence ate him and he suppressed the uneven lilt in his voice.

"I was removed."

And why was he even telling this to Kuroba–? Well, it did seem kind of unfair for the guy to not know why Shinichi was using him as a verbal punching bag today. It was only fair he'd let him know–

"Megure-keibu took me off the kidnapping case." Shinichi fumbled with the book in his hands. It was the _Sign of Four,_ one of his favorite novels, but it didn't do anything to lighten his spirits. His mouth twitched into a bitter smile– right, why was he telling Kaito this again? It wasn't like he cared about the wounded ego of a detective–

"Why's that?"

Shinichi felt his shoulder jump slightly when a shadow crossed over his outstretched hand as it shuffled through the shelf. He felt the question sit on him for longer than he liked, and Shinichi really had to wonder.

Personal grudge? The name of the culprit– Nagaya Wataru– was lost to him. Did he do something that pissed the guy off enough to whack him around brutally yesterday–? Even so, the fact that he wasn't able to stop the man from getting away–

"Something about revenge," he muttered inaudibly. Shinichi chewed on his lip for a while, the horrible reminder that he was _kicked_ from the team was starting to irritate his eyes. He turned away after sliding the book back onto the shelf. He knew that those blue eyes were watching him, waiting for a better explanation.

What should he do now? Just whine in his face or–? An idea nestled in his mind and it sounded too good to pass up. He swallowed the feeling and mentally nodded to himself. He'll do this. Why didn't he think of it before?

Shinichi laughed dryly, a fake smile twitching his lips up– "I'm not really sure. It just sort of…" He paused, breaking the sentence off. He shifted cheerfully toward his acquaintance, whose expression had become unreadable but Shinichi imagined he was definitely confused.

"I have something to do at home, I'll see you tomorrow."

And with his head ducked low, the detective strolled past the magician with a purposeful bounce countering the limp in his step.

–

There was something that the police often forgot about Shinichi: he was abnormally brilliant for his age. His ability to churn out deductions and possibilities was so honed that even his fictional role model, Sherlock Holmes, would have been proud.

Even if he was kicked off the investigation team and not given the collection of evidence that pointed to the whereabouts of the hideout, Shinichi had his ways. He had just about the same amount of evidence before his run-in with the criminal. If he wasn't able to deduce anything by now, he'd be a failure of a detective.

Finding the abandoned warehouse wasn't hard. In fact, it seemed like he was the first one there. Someone must have tipped the police the wrong information– that often happened since the culprit would use a different telephone line to contact the hostage's family.

Old, rusty, and dusty– the warehouse was the perfect place for the man to hold his hostages and demand some kind of ransom. Shinichi even wondered why it took the police this long to find the place. The location was perfect. It was so painfully obvious but ingenious at the same time. How did they miss it during their initial search?

The door creaked shut behind him and Shinichi shuffled into the dimly lit abandoned space. It was a wide and empty storage room– it had a very high ceiling with beams of metal running across to support the roof. Stacked along the walls were discarded scraps of metal and crates. Old flyers littered the floor. He noted a lone desk with a long wire twisting on the surface before it connected to a traditional fax machine.

Fax machine?

He chanced a peek through the door once again– there was no car in the surrounding vicinity, so Shinichi was sure that the man was out, especially at this time of day. After cautiously stepping over and side-stepping some of the junk stacked across the ground, Shinichi found himself standing in front of the table.

Several newspaper clippings were scattered on top of the wooden surface. He snapped gloves onto his hands and gingerly picked up the near brittle newspapers.

It wasn't that the newspapers were old– rather, they had been stained with coffee but meticulously dried and pressed. Someone was really trying to keep these as they were. Personal memento? Maybe. He stared at the articles. The newspaper clippings had little in common. One was a kidnapping case from ages ago where Shinichi had been on the team responsible for solving it– the other covered the death of a little girl due to insufficient funds for her treatment. Her last name sounded familiar and Shinichi vaguely remembered a divorce-driven murder with a parent as the victim. Before she was adopted, her name used to be–

Shinichi's eyes widened. Grudge. Personal grudge, this was–

An ominous presence loomed behind him and Shinichi turned.

A callused hand latched around his throat and slammed him hard into the desk before he even knew what or who was there. His face stung with the contact against the wood. The papers in his hand crumpled and his vision swam dizzily in the dim light. He reached out a hand but his arm slammed against the fax machine.

"Didn't think I'd see you so soon, Kudou Shinichi."

A breathy, near sinister growl was above him. The detective couldn't breathe, his hand clenched fruitlessly at the man's wrist– his other hand fumbled to pull his tranquilizer watch from his pocket–

"Didn't know the pathetic detective would just walk right in. You're probably wondering why I'm doing this." Another rough shove against his throat made his hands twitch and claw desperately at his arm. Shinichi gasped, eyes widening and stinging. The grip didn't relinquish and the edges of his vision hazed.

Cold metal closed over his wrists and Shinichi realized in a hazy horror that it was his own pair of handcuffs– great, now he was cuffed and it seemed that the man was bent on killing him–

Lady Luck really hated him today.

He lifted his leg to kick and the blow landed powerfully enough to make the man grunt– which wasn't so smart since he took Shinichi's face and slammed it into the desk, again. "Keh–"

"Did you figure it out yet?" The hand on his throat tightened further and Shinichi's lungs struggled to draw in a breath. "That girl in the newspaper? She was my daughter–" With a rough push, Shinichi crumpled to the floor, a rough and ragged cough spilling from his throat. A well-aimed kick to his side sent him curling in on himself and rolling across the concrete.

_Daughter_– that was the final piece of the motive he was missing and had failed to retrieve the day before. Up until now, the man's motive had been unclear– _why would he target random and unrelated hostages? Why did he target _Shinichi? The detective didn't have a clue that the serial kidnapper's motives were tied to a case from _years_ ago–

"Back then, you were an arrogant little brat, thought you knew everything. But you didn't. If my plans hadn't failed–"

Shinichi yelped when something cold, something hard connected with his shoulder, and something _cracked_ when metal hit bone. The side of his face scraped against the wooden leg of the table, and he hissed through his teeth–

"My daughter wouldn't have died."

A shadow fell over him as he writhed on the floor, the heat from the abused areas of his skin raged through his body. The silence stretched and he breathed with a shaky inhale through his teeth– _what next?_

A metal pole tapped his leg experimentally and Shinichi sucked in a sharp breath, eyes jerking wide–

It slid up the front of his calf before it pressed painfully into the sensitive gash that had just recently closed.

"Wasn't it this leg that was cut just a week ago?"

Shinichi's heart stopped cold. No, no, he wouldn't, he _wouldn't__–_ the dim light smirked off the metal as it came down.

He swore he heard the metal laugh.

He didn't even feel it, because it hurt so much. His eyes widened and a coarse scream was strangled from his throat. Another shriek of laughter resonated and Shinichi's face dug into the floor. His screams echoed against the cold concrete.

His legs were pounded with a ruthlessness that numbed the nerves in his muscles. He had tensed, bound hands and nails flexing and digging into the floor as his brain attempted to send signals to his limbs to _move, get away__._

"Stop–" Shinichi's voice came out hoarse when the hot flashes on his legs subsided. A hand fisted his shirt and dragged him up.

Through his bleary vision, he could make out the sinister smile on the man's lips. Shinichi blindly thrashed with his arms hoping they would _hit__–_ but the rough cutting edge of the handcuffs ate into his skin. A violent tremor consumed his body, tattered breaths hissing from between gritted teeth. A low laugh floated in the air as metal clinked against the floor.

He realized that his legs wouldn't work either.

Shinichi felt a numb blow to the side of his face and heard a loud crack in his ear– his head rebounded off the table with a thud. His teeth dug into the skin of his lip–

Shinichi was pinned against the table. The bones in his cheek bruised against the hard surface–

His face was on fire as a metal tang seeped into his mouth– it was disgusting, bitter, _pathetic._ He choked on his breath as hot pain from the cold metal spiked up the skin of his neck and shoulders_– again and again and again_– and his voice became thick with groans and sharp gasps.

The world around him started to shriek in white noise, and the heavy pole lifted from his shoulders with a sloppy jerk. He breathed harshly, nose crushed and mouth slack.

"_Weak._ That's what you are." A hand fisted his hair and lifted his face barely off the table. "Just a pathetic detective who steps all over people because he's arrogant enough to do it."

His vision darkened– his body was starting to break down on him–

"Well how does it feel like to be stepped on now–?"

He heard a loud thud behind him and the stillness overwhelmed the ringing in his ear.

An angered yell pierced through the warehouse and shattered the static noise_– "Who the fuck are you–?!"_

The metal rod was thrown against the floor and the man's gargled yell diminished into a muffle. A peaceful silence washed over him, and the numbness receded down his limbs, introducing hot patches of pain littering his entire body. He was fine now, he was _fine–_

A small choke slipped past his lips. _No, he wasn't. His legs were hurting like fucking hell– _The pain and situation registered and dropped into holes and gaps in his mind. The realization of his situation was crushing–

A puddle of warmness collected around the side of his face and left a cool rail down on his inflamed skin.

Pathetic.

He would've let the criminal get away again–

He was cuffed too, would've died if the man wasn't stopped.

A shadow fell over him and Shinichi's eyes shut tiredly, blinking tear drops onto the table. He breathed a shaky breath.

Guardian angel, huh?

–

–

A/N: -rolls away and into a dusty corner- (aghghh It feels somewhat rushed now that I look back at it. -sobs;;-)

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed it!;;; Don't forget to review! ;A; -heartshearts-

A little piece of my soul died when I was writing that scene.;; Like is it normal to feel horrible stomach pains when I'm writing Shinichi getting beaten up? ouo WELL YEA. The scene was so painful (but fun) to write. Ha hahaha;;; I'm sorry. OTL.

**Another note:** I normally don't really like to write Shinichi this pathetic and unable to defend himself, but remember that he has a limp (from the fourth incident) that severely handicaps him. Also the criminal did have the advantage of surprise over him. |D Hah haha.;; Sorry.

-runs away;;;-


	3. three

A/N: Ahh, very sorry about the delay~ But we were slightly busy with lives and so you know... xD; Anyways, I'd like to thank my wonderful betas for helping me catch them grammar mistakes. XD I tend to...miss them too hum.

Anyways, hope this chapter is a good one! *u* Have fun! (I hope.;; )

–

Three

–

_It was only the third time and it had already become this severe. Under his fingertips, the body was still, eyes clouded over, white dress shirt stained with dirt and torn open, bruises and scrapes visible on the skin underneath. _

_He didn't want to touch him, scared that he'd shatter the already torn and fragile skin. His fingers hovered, but he hesitated before a breathy gasp slipped from the unconscious adult's mouth. _

_The sound stabbed him in the chest– _

_Breath caught in his throat, he gingerly lifted an arm and the limp but trembling body fell easily into his embrace. There was another clipped breath and the detective's face burned against his chest. He felt a throb in the space where he breathed._

_How long had the detective been missing–? How did no one notice him here? _

_He only had the mind to look for him after he didn't show up at the library for an hour. The absence of the detective grated on the back of his mind and prompted him to _look_. _

_And here Shinichi was behind an obscure building, covered with the pungent smell of earth and sweat. _

_He lifted the detective with a grunt, having already spread his jacket over him to cover his indecency. The detective hung boneless in his arms._

_He had a lot of things to thank his persona for. One of them was the constant upper-body training that he did which allowed him to pick the detective up easily._

_He swept the area with a glance before carrying him away._

–

when your voice cuts off

–

He woke up to a hand gently brushing his bangs. On the side of his face was a numbing, cold heaviness, and slowly he tried to move his jaw. It wouldn't budge. He remembered how the man had slugged him in the face, probably leaving a nasty bruise.

The breeze in his hair drew back cautiously when he stirred awake. Shinichi struggled to lift his eyes, exhaustion weighed down his eyelids.

Where was he?

Gradually, his vision cleared enough for him to register the black shadow in the corner as his familiar desk with the cluttered books and case folders piled on top of it. Breathing deeply, Shinichi took a few moments to search the room for more pieces of familiar furniture. It took several moments for him to realize that he wasn't alone– there was a dark figure bent over his bed, in front of the window–

A surge of panic jolted through his limbs and Shinichi lifted his arms quickly to defend himself. The ache in his back and arms burned and he nearly toppled over. The ice pack fell from his face, landing with a thud on the floor–

"Get away–" His voice sounded raspy and weak.

A hand grabbed the hand he threw out as a punch. Shinichi winced as a sting of pain shot through his wrist. His breath came short and he cringed. Realizing its mistake, the grip loosened into a gentle cradle of his wrist. The tingle subsided in waves, but left Shinichi surprised and wary.

"You're fine."

It was an all too familiar voice spoken from a person wearing a well-known color using a too familiar moon for a back drop. His heart nearly dropped to his stomach. _He was here–_ Why was he here– didn't he retire years ago–? The moonlight thief–

"Ki–Kid?"

There was that annoying twitch of a smirk on his lips, and the man leaned forward slightly to grin patiently at him. What he thought he'd seen– a white suit– faded into a simple white sweater. The gentle hand was still there on his wrist. The same voice sounded strained and quiet.

"Don't call me that. I'm not Kid anymore, haven't been Kid since two years ago."

The detective exhaled shakily, shoulders relaxing and heart beat slowing. He wasn't sure when he had equated Kid with safety, but he inherently knew that Kid would never raise an aggressive hand against him– the reminder of violence made his sides ache.

His eyes drooped into a bout of haziness as fatigue washed over his body, the initial panic drained away. He fell into the pillows propped against his headboard. Once settled, Shinichi spent the next few seconds overcoming the building ache in his head–right, his head had been pounded against the table for how many times already…? He was surprised it hadn't cracked.

He was sure that those deep blue eyes were watching him carefully in the silence. There was an abrupt inhale.

"You're not very smart are you?"

The bed creaked and the weight of Kid– not Kid anymore, dipped the bed. A hand brushed against his cheek. Shinichi flinched but he found himself resting into the comforting caress. The feathery warm touches felt nice against his ice-cold face.

There was a warm breath on his face and the fingers brushed away the bangs that were irritating his eyes. In the same cool and soothing tone, the man continued. "The criminal gave you a hint that the police didn't know, because he knew you'd go there on your own– because you were his target, and you just _walked_ in–"

Shinichi swore he heard a small, compressed tremor in his voice. He wasn't sure though, not with the loud pounding in his ears.

"Idiot."

The word grated sharply against his ears and he blinked his eyes open so that he could glare into the shadows surrounding the used-to-be-thief's face. His mind was still numb from the turn of events, but he had gathered enough wits to mutter spitefully: "And to whom do I owe the honor of stalking me into that trap…?"

"Only the one that would care to leave behind gifts at your door." The man tilted his head, the shadows moved off his face and he offered a weak smile.

That stupid annoying smile on a face too much like his own– Shinichi's breath stopped. No way–

"K-Kuroba–"

That annoying smirking, usual cheery and idiotic airhead of an friend– he was the one behind the mask of Kid and the stupid vigilante–

"You…You were the one who–"

Shinichi's eyes widened when there was a loud clatter in the room next to his. He nearly jumped up but Kaito was quick to pull him back into the comforts of his bed. "What was that–"

"Nagaya's in the next room. I took the courtesy of drugging him with sleeping gas. Seems like he just woke up."

The voice was uncomfortably close above his ear. Shinichi took a sharp breath, inhaling the heavy spice permeating the air. His aching shoulder pressed into a warm chest and he twitched at the contact– Shinichi realized that arms had encircled his waist–

Shinichi shoved Kaito away weakly– his college friend reluctant to let go but nonetheless relinquishing his grip on the detective. Glaring at the bandages wrung around his wrist, Shinichi formed loose fists against the white sweater–

"You're the bastard that keeps leaving the criminals at my door." He somehow found the backbone to his words amidst his dazed state.

But his voice still sounded brittle.

_Pathetic._

His friend gave a light simper before his lips fell into a mock pout. The smile was as Kuroba-esque as it could be, but it was laced with an unfamiliar exhaustion that Shinichi couldn't place.

A hand softly brushed aside his bangs again and a ghost of a smile appeared on Kaito's lips. "I thought you'd like it. You know, it's old-fashioned to leave gifts at the door."

The detective glared at the bed sheets, shutting his eyes as another wave of pain erupted in his head.

"I…I don't think I like waking up at four in the morning to some incessant knocking on my door just to see Tokyo's most wanted drooling on my front step. It's annoying." Not to mention, frustrating that the criminals were just handed to him like some kind of pity prize–

He looked up at Kaito's face and noticed that the playful and sly smile had fallen off his lips. He wore the same contemplative expression when he'd had when he was at the library. Unreadable eyes, unreadable in genera–_ This was Kid's Poker Face,_ Shinichi's aching mind told him–

The finger tips in his hair drew back.

"I don't like seeing it."

Shinichi blinked from his hazy thoughts– "What?"

"These bandages on your face." A hand cradled the side of his face– and the detective flinched before the pressure let up. Warm lips brushed over his face and lingered on his eye, and Shinichi felt like there was a rock stuck in his throat. The hurt in his face was bringing back the echoing words–

"I don't like them–"

_Pathetic detective._

Shinichi's breath caught in his throat. His hands softly gripped the fabric of Kaito's sweater, and the warmth leaned over him.

Shinichi's mind went numb as he was pushed back and into the pillow– why was he here? This was _Kuroba_ and he was just mocking him– he'd been mocking him ever since he'd left the first criminal at his door– because to see the _'Meitantei Kudou'_ in a state of ruin like this was something so laughable, it was all so–

_Pathetic._

Shinichi swallowed hard as a sting irritated his eye. Lips trailed to his neck and the mouth traced the red streaks on his throat.

"I arrested them–"

"But…Kid doesn't hurt." Shinichi's voice had gone small, and he shivered under Kaito's warm breath ghosting over his neck. There was a pause. The hand on his face turned his chin and warm lips planted themselves on the corner of his mouth. Shinichi's lashes fluttered closed as he felt the lump in his chest grow heavier–

A damp cloth suddenly covered his nose and he took a breath– big mistake, since he quickly registered the smell of chloroform– before he could open his eyes. Black seeped into his vision.

"You forgot: I'm not Kid anymore, Shinichi."

–

When Shinichi woke up to light pouring in from the windows, he found himself tucked in. His entire body was tingling with pain. He moved an arm and watched it fall limp against the mattress. His back and legs were sure to be bruised with ugly shades of purple.

_What happened last night?_ was the question running through his mind. His memory had gone fuzzy with each small throb in his head. Only small fragments of the night managed to float back to him.

The motive was the daughter. The culprit had attacked Shinichi because he had been the leading detective on the team who stopped a certain kidnapping case that cost her life. After he discovered that piece of information, Shinichi was handcuffed and beaten with a metal rod. He had lost consciousness sometime after a scream and thud. That was all he could remember before waking up in the comforts of his bed.

Shinichi sat up with a groan, his back and stomach felt tender to the touch. There were bruises on top of bruises. Another bad run-in. He'll have to have an ice bath or something.

He stared blankly at his covers, willing his hazed mind to conjure up the missing bits of his memories. How did he get home last night? And what happened to the man?

Was he arrested?

The questions swarmed heavily and he reached a hand to cradle his head. He then noticed the fresh bandages on his wrist and realized that his throat was wrapped with some sort of gauze.

Shinichi's throat clenched and it wasn't from the firm pressure of the gauze. This made it the fifth time he'd let a criminal get away and he had the wounds to show for them. Was he really that–?

_'Weak. That's what you are–'_

The words echoed in his mind as Shinichi pushed the covers aside. He cringed at the sight– like he predicted, purple and black splotches dotted his legs. Pushing himself to stand, Shinichi felt the strain in his legs as they trembled under his weight. He stood for a while and found his balance.

Thank god, nothing was broken. He was badly bruised, yes– but broken? He really had to thank his body's resilience–maybe.

With something like a defeated sigh, Shinichi wobbled to the bathroom.

–

"I'm surprised that you're… as damaged as ever, Kudou." He lifted a brow at the added bandages on Shinichi's face, neck, and wrists. "Let me guess, bravery and stupidity at its best."

Shinichi had gone silent as he fell into the seat across the blond detective. He dragged his backpack up and set it on the table. Maybe it was the deadness or blankness in his eyes that had Hakuba's light smile slip into something more understanding.

The detective wordlessly shook his head and collapsed in a tired heap on top of the backpack, rattling the usual porcelain tea and saucer that held Hakuba's beloved Earl Grey.

"I... this feels like shit."

"I'm sure it does," Hakuba muttered patiently. The clink of the porcelain cup and pregnant pause told Shinichi he was sipping his tea and had nothing else to say.

Shinichi shifted and turned his head to stare at the neat stacks of notes. Idle eyes moved until they rested on white napkin on the table. _White_– Shinichi's eyes widened as the last pieces of the night fell into place.

"Kid's back–" Shinichi gasped, lifting his head suddenly from the bag. He spent the next few seconds willing the dizziness back to the bottom of his skull–

"Quite the old news. He's been back since… your doorstep gifts started." Hakuba continued without batting an eye. He picked up the morning newspaper with a picture of Shinichi's face– a picture that Shinichi didn't remember posing for. Hakuba's lips had that annoying twitch of satisfaction. "And I can see by the look on your face that today is different."

Shinichi reached to grab the newspaper away from him. Large blue eyes scanned over the headline: _"Kudou Shinichi Captures Serial Kidnapper–!"_ He stared wordlessly, eyes wide and lost–this couldn't be right, he just left the house about an hour ago. "But I was–"

"Kid borrowed your clothes and appeared at the police station with the criminal in tow." Hakuba took another calm sip from his tea. "Everyone knew it was him. He doesn't have the patched up face and limp that you do–"

Shinichi heavily sunk into his seat, the newspaper crinkling loudly in his hands. "I–but why? I mean, _why_ would he even bother to do all that?"

There was absolutely no reason why Kid would do anything for him, unless he was only saving Shinichi's sorry ass because he _happened_ to see him getting beaten.

He shouldn't even need saving. He was a detective. A _detective_ was supposed to be able to capture the criminals they cornered, but he couldn't– he turned quiet.

Shinichi grumbled, releasing the paper and gripping his elbows before he felt the pang of pain from his bruises and let go– "If anything, he's just going to get himself in trouble with the police–"

The blond coughed. "The police like him enough to turn a blind eye. You can't forget that he _did_ turn in four criminals."

"You can't ignore that he attacked them. He's breaking the law–" And he was breaking the law, because Shinichi _wasn't_ able to arrest them before he did. The thought made it harder for him to breathe.

"I'm not interested in what he does," Hakuba calmly went on, eyes watching the quiet detective. "And unless I witness the offense, I'm afraid I can't do anything about it."

"What the hell–?" He seethed quietly through his teeth.

Hakuba raised a wary brow.

"What the hell does he want me to do then? Does he want me to go and arrest him for pissing me off–" Shinichi's voice had risen and he slammed his hands on the table, half-rising from his seat. There was a smarting sting from under the palms of his hands. "Because it's _annoying_ how he's doing what I'm supposed to do– I'm not a baby anymore, I'm not _Conan_ anymore, dammit–"

He stopped when he heard that despised tremble in his voice. No, no– how could he let this get to him? Just because he couldn't catch a criminal– five criminals out of the hundreds that he had chased– didn't mean he'd cry at his inability. When he was Conan and ran into those situations, he had cheated with his gadgets, so it's only fair now that he didn't.

How could he let something like this bother him?

The detective bit his lip and turned away, clenching his fist. Steadying the shakiness in his voice, he seethed, "It's fucking annoying, I don't understand why–"

Hakuba gave him a lingering and disbelieving glance– maybe those scarlet, calculating eyes had an ounce of sympathy too. Shinichi didn't want to look at him.

He swallowed hard and shook his head. He kept his glare on the floor as he grabbed his bag, hand fisting the handle.

"Forget it. I'm going."

–

–

Eh. 8D;; Uhm. He's fine, no broken bones, which is sort of a miracle I guess. Just sort of... he's not as pathetic and weak as he thinks he is.;; I think, aghasd. I don't know. TuT;;;

I mean, canon has already boosted him to the invincibility level, come on.;; He's only human, he needs to get punched every so often. -shot in the face-

And Hakuba is the worst possible friend there is. 8D Which is why I love him. He's so factual and straight to the point and such a troll~;;

Have a great day! Hope to see you all next chapter. 8D;;;


	4. four

A/N: Abububu thank you to everyone for their comments! Now... I realized that there might have been confusion with where this verse is actually set since I haven't really explained myself lool. (and if you've read TwoPlanes, maybe you're confused with that. XDD)

So for clarification: This is a story where the BO has been taken down, Shinichi turns back from Conan, and Kaito retired from being Kid. (Hence the whole: "haven't been called that since two years.")

And this chapter is different than the rest. 8D; Woop~

enjoy!

–

Four

–

_It would be a lie to say that he didn't know why the detective was in a bad mood. He only knew because he overheard Hakuba's conversation on the phone. Shinichi had been involved in a small scuffle (well, he came back with bruises and such) with the criminal yesterday. He needed to be taken off the team just in case something worse happened– _

_So when he stalked quietly up next to the bruised and limping detective, he knew why that scowl deepened on his lips, why his voice was a bit more strained than usual, why he insisted on pulling out books he'd never read and returning the ones he barely opened. _

_What he didn't know was why the detective paused in the middle of his sentence with a spark settling in his eyes. The brief silence made him nervous, and that fake smile put him on edge. _

"_I have something to do at home, I'll see you tomorrow."_

_The detective left him standing dumbly within the suffocating confines of the narrow library aisles. _

_He watched him go._

_His retreating back felt like a slap in the face. _

–

I am so scared.

–

His face was stained red with scrapes all over.

The tips of his shoes barely touched the concrete.

His shoulders were shaking, he was barely breathing.

_He tailed the wrong people. He followed the police to the hideout that he thought Shinichi had gone to, but didn't. There was a sinking pressure in his gut when he realized that the criminal, much less Shinichi, wasn't there. _

The large body fell to the ground with a careless thud, knocked out after being smothered with a thick cloth. Kaito side stepped the criminal to move closer toward the table.

Kaito was numb.

His fingers lost their grip on the cool can of sleeping gas. The metal sharply bounced on the concrete and he didn't dare take another step.

No, no, no–

_As he examined the empty apartment under the guise of an officer, he remembered that just a few days ago before Shinichi was removed, he had saw the detective drown himself in his notebook, staring at a map that Kaito hadn't seen in the police records. Along the bottom page, a street name was scrawled. A street name that wasn't the street that he was at right now. _

_Panic tore through him, and he knew why the detective wasn't there. After slipping away from the police (who were staking out wrong place), Kaito ran–_

_All the while praying that he wasn't too late, that there was still time._

– he made a mistake.

With a few shaky but quick steps, his legs brought him closer. The detective seemed lifeless on the hard wooden surface. His exposed skin marred with red. Legs hung limp from the table, delicate skin torn around the handcuffs.

Kaito couldn't breathe–

_He ditched the stolen police bike five feet from the warehouse door. It was thick and his hands scrambled to pick the lock– it was clicked open within a minute. When the door creaked open, he heard his scream._

_He didn't know, he didn't know, he _didn't know_ what happened with his legs and arms when they moved—_

_(He found himself slamming a hard metal can into the man's head—and suffocating him with a cloth. He'd have pressed harder, taken away his breath– but a whimper made his arm drop and the criminal's body fall.) _

– _he didn't know, he didn't know—_

_He just knew that his prayers weren't answered._

He was close enough to hear the shattered breaths– Kaito somewhat wished he wasn't because the sound stopped his heart and turned him ice cold.

Tears stained the table. Dried blood crusted the curve of his quivering lower lip. Lingering wetness slid across Shinichi's lashes and dropped–

Too late. He was too late.

Kaito's feverish rage died and he was left feeling empty, fingers freezing, shoulders shaking in the remnants of the adrenaline rush that started upon hearing Shinichi's scream.

There was a choked gasp and Kaito helplessly watched another tear fall.

Cold fingers touched the blazing skin of Shinichi's wrist. After a well-practiced twitch of his fingers, he caught the cuffs as they fell. He didn't want to see the tiny streaks of blood smeared against the metal, but he did.

The sight grabbed his throat and held it tight.

_Choking. _

Carefully gripping Shinichi's elbow, he rolled him into his arm. The detective's skin was flushed and lips were dry. Kaito gently pressed a palm under the small of his back and held him–

There was an audible gasp, a shudder, and a wince of pain.

And he felt like a criminal– because to have Kudou Shinichi broken and torn in ways that were more than physical when he could have _stopped _it made the guilt and weight press on his shoulders.

_No one gets hurt. No one gets hurt as long as Kid is there– _a mantra that he kept on reciting even when he had put down the monocle and hat. But why would Kaito care about a code he wasn't obliged to live up to when this was entirely something else –? The inherent need to _be there _was something that extended past rules and delved into their history as _Kid _and _Tantei-kun. _

He growled at himself and pulled the breathing body closer, eyes glaring at the table top.

Shinichi was eerily still, eyes shut with tears and sweat rimming the edge of his face. The sight made his heart drop and he felt sick with himself–

No.

_It hurt. It hurt. It burned._

The rattled breath against his shirt made him shiver and realize– he failed to protect him.

God damn it, _no_–

"I'm sorry."

–

A/N: mm. Well. yeah. This is Kaito's take on what happened in the third chapter. Poor thing, he's sort of... hm, poor thing. XD;;

Anyways ahh, I'm so tired. XD;; weeks of midterms are behind me~~ time to focus on hw agaain. XD

Please review if you have time! I REALLY SUPER APPRECIATE ALL THE TIME YOU PUT INTO REVIEWING. I WAKE UP FIRST THING IN THE MORNING TO BEAUTIFUL EMAILS WITH REVIEWS. AND EVEN WHEN MY EYES ARE CRUSTED OVER WITH SLEEP AND STUFF, I STILL LOOK AT THEM BEFORE ROLLING OT OF BED. XD It seriously makes my day. I SHALL REPLY TO YOU ALL SOON. -hugs and rolls away-


	5. five

A/N: After a week of stress and chucking around my textbooks, I'm back with the latest and final installment of Doorstep Gifts~ And before we continue, I'll just have to tell you all that **_there will be no more chapters for__ this._**

That said, please read and review! -hugs and rolls-

–

Five

–

_He didn't show up at school that day. _

_He was thinking of visiting the Kudou House the following day if he didn't see him in the library, but sometime after three, he did. Clunky metal crutches had made home underneath his arms, and the detective wobbled noisily toward the same table he always sat on._

_Of course, he got up to help him to sit– pull out a chair and take his crutches as Shinichi plopped down noisily. From the lift of Shinichi's pant leg, there was a compress around his ankle, but no signs of a cast–_

_It wasn't an internal injury, which was good. But if it wasn't broken bones, what was it that made him limp like that? _

_"What happened?" he started as the detective leaned back against the chair. The crutches leaned heavily against their table. He curiously stared at the bandage along his jaw– a nasty cut behind the adhesive, but it wasn't as angry as the ones he'd seen before. _

_The detective swallowed and sighed loudly.  
_

_"Just something shallow, it's not a huge problem."_

_That's what he said and insisted– "It's fine."– when he tried to pry a bit more. But when he managed to sneak into the police headquarters to pop open the file he knew the detective had been looking at the week prior to this mysterious limp, he overheard:_

_"It could have been a nasty gash. He really was trying to damage his legs, that serial murderer. If he cut a little deeper, I don't think he'd be able to walk."_

_"That's how Kudou gets his criminals right? By kicking. Take away his legs and he can't do anything else."_

_And the voices floated away down the corridor. He left silently with the case folder in hand, mind heavy with thoughts. _

–

I'm screaming.

–

Shinichi had been glaring at the twenty-third page of _A Sign of Four_ for perhaps a good thirty minutes. He didn't really remember how long he was standing there, pulling books on and off the shelf. Shinichi just remembered how his throat would clench, his stomach would hurt, and his eyes would sting whenever he was left to his own thoughts for a minute too long.

The detective shook the feeling away and forced a laugh.

He was overreacting about this and doing it quite dramatically too. It wasn't like Shinichi didn't know how to solve codes and pinpoint murderers. He just…lets the occasional few get away–

_But these were the criminals that fought rather than stand there, twiddling their thumbs and letting the police take them away–_

He breathed deeply and snapped the book shut. Shinichi shut his eyes, trying to will away the memory but the words kept attacking him, echoing– _pathetic, pathetic, weak, weak–_

"Kudou?"

He jumped, eyes jerking open.

It was that same tone of voice he always heard every day in the afternoons: wondering, light, peppy, _hateful_–

Shinichi shoved the book roughly back into its space on the shelf and took a ragged breath. The sound of book hitting the back of the shelf and was loud in the quiet library and attracted curious stares from bystanders at the study tables.

The voice made his skin prickle and he hated it. Shinichi didn't turn; his hand fell from the shelf.

"What."

"You feeling alright?" A hand came to touch his arm; it was a friendly gesture for the most part. Kaito was careful of where he was treading– he was probably pretending that last night never happened, that he hadn't seen Shinichi beaten and completely defeated–

Shinichi slapped his hand away, glaring at Kaito's surprised stare. He hissed to alleviate the sudden pain in his wrist. "I'm _fine_."

A look of worry flashed through Kaito's eyes and Shinichi felt guilt settle in his throat. Why was he upset over this? Why was he angry at Kid– no, _Kuroba_, anyways? He saved him yesterday from the man, if anything, he should be grateful–

Misdirected anger, the remains of his logic whispered. But this feeling of dread and self-loathing, it was Kuroba's fault that he made him feel _incompetent_–

But was it really his fault?

Shinichi, in his frustrated and depressed state of mind, couldn't discern if it really was. He stood at a loss, eyes glaring, but the sting in his nose was beginning to hurt.

The detective turned to walk away– to get away from him because he couldn't stand to be there being the melodramatic queen he was. It was stupid. It was a stupid thing for him to start crying over something so little like this–

He took a shaky step, his legs nearly collapsing from the strain.

"Wait–" A hand caught his arm and Shinichi froze at the sharp stab lancing up his arm. With a reckless pull, Shinichi tore his arm away–

_"Goddammit, can you fucking leave me alone?!"_

The yell shattered the silence in the library and Shinichi tensed when he felt stares directed toward them. A hand grabbed his wrist and yanked him off his feet. His vision was swamped by the dark blue of Kaito's shirt and he took a sharp breath at the jagged pain shooting up his arm from the unrelenting vice-like grip on his wrist.

"Come here–"

Hard fingers digging into his arm, Shinichi was towed away from the curious eyes of the crowd, his eyes nearly shut and beading with tears from the jolts of pain–

"Kuroba–" he growled as a warning, but the hand didn't yield as the other pulled him to somewhere else in the library. His legs nearly gave out as he limped after him–

Shinichi tried to wrench his arm away but Kaito was stronger and snapped it back, almost too ruthlessly pulling a yelp and tears from the detective–

It was that quiet, almost high-pitched gasp that stopped the other in his tracks –

"What the hell is wrong with you–" The detective began, wrestling free from Kaito's grasp. The magician's dark eyes lifted before he gingerly released his bruised wrist, eyes unreadable as he stared at Shinichi.

He didn't say anything, didn't show anything. His eyes bore into Shinichi's, reflecting an equal stubbornness and maybe something else. The all too familiar Poker Face had slipped in place and Shinichi hated how he couldn't decipher anything about him– _Kuroba was Kid, of course he wouldn't let the mask fall._

"Why the hell are you doing this–" Shinichi continued, hands fisting, nails digging into his palms. "Constantly bothering me, irritating me– should I say that I hate you so that you'll stop?"

His voice had built in volume and crashed with a quiet venom–

Kuroba didn't blink, only stood, eyes staring– unreadable. His unnerving silence prompted Shinichi to breathe–

"And those damn criminals– you must have had fun," Shinichi sneered bitterly. He laughed dryly, but it felt so painful when it tumbled out. "Tying them up in duct tape and tying them to a tree– what point are you trying to make? Huh, _Kid_?"

He saw Kaito's shoulders tense, but his Poker Face still didn't crumble.

"Didn't get enough from your childish heists to jibe at the police, so you wanted to laugh at them more? Laugh at their incompetence– laugh at _mine_?" The spiteful smile slipped from Shinichi's face and he glared, eyebrows furrowing. "Well I have something to tell you, _Kaitou Kid_, I can capture criminals on my own, I don't need a damn thief's help–"

Somewhere in Shinichi's mind words of doubt echoed– could he really? He had been beaten up the past few times and just yesterday, he'd be killed if _Kaito_ hadn't step in–

Shinichi's swallowed thickly– _Kaito saved him yesterday, why the hell was he yelling at him?_

"Does it bother you?" Kaito asked, his breath ruffling through Shinichi's bangs. Shinichi blinked and realized he was glaring at Kaito's sneakers which were suddenly a few steps closer. Shinichi staggered back until he hit the shelf behind him.

"Of course, dammit–" Shinichi pulled his head up to meet fierce blue eyes– they weren't smiling right now. "I tracked them down; I should be able to arrest them– what kind of detective can't do that?"

A tremor settled in his voice and Kaito's contemplative expression started to blur. When he blinked, something hot slid down his cheek– Shinichi faltered and brought a hand to swipe at his eyes–

Thinking it was already bad enough, admitting the fact just made it worse. Shinichi inhaled sharply and turned his face away, knuckles kneading at his eyes. "Just fucking stop. I'm going to arrest you the next time I see you–"

"Kudou–"

"Don't you get it?" Shinichi snapped hotly, eyes flaring with renewed wetness. "If you fucking come near me again I'm going to kick your sorry ass and–"

Shinichi's back was slammed into the uneven shelf. A mouth was on top his before he could scream at the pain throbbing through him. His curses turned into a quiet moan as a tongue slipped through his lips. The warm mouth moved to suckle on his lower lip, and Shinichi's mind melted before rebooting–

_What the hell–?  
_

His hand tightened before he slugged a fist at Kaito's face. There was a loud slap as knuckles met skin. The body was thrown off him with a shove of his arm, but not without consequences. Shinichi sucked in a breath as sharp jabs flooded the nerves in his limb. Breathlessly, Shinichi saw Kaito's bangs tickling his reddening right cheek.

He drew in a deep breath. His eyes blurred and water slid down his face. "Kuroba, what the hell was that for?!"

Wasn't this just _misdirected anger?_ Shinichi shook the thought away as his hand clenched hard, digging his nails into his palm.

Kaito brushed his cheek gingerly, before his hand shot out to nail Shinichi's shoulder– the one that had been hit with the metal rod–

Shinichi's back sunk into the bookshelf once more and his breath shortened.

"Goddammit, how dense can you get?" the former thief was yelling, face flushed and twisted in desperation. Shinichi winced from the bruising pressure on his shoulder and the tone of his words. The detective fell silent a knot tied his throat.

Kaito heaved a breath, his demeanor all out of sorts. His Poker Face was gone–

He barely heard it over the tumble of the library's air conditioners but it was there– a small voice with a steady tremor.

"I did it because you always come to school with bandages and bruises."

The hand relinquished its hold on his shoulder and moved down to hold his arm lightly. Shinichi stared at him, eyes wide– confused. What was he saying–?

"Fuck…_fuck, damn it. Kudou–"_

Kaito leaned in close, unnervingly so. His head ducked to rest against Shinichi's shoulder. Kaito's sigh rattled out and Shinichi heard the uncertain tremble more clearly. A suffocating weight pressed on him. He was pinned and couldn't move, not with his back scraping against the books.

"God, damn it. I'm scared. I'm _scared _that if things continue, you'll be hospitalized one day, you could be–" He swallowed and breathed hard through his nose. "I don't…I… What would I do if that happened–?"

Shinichi blinked, eyes drying slightly as the last of the tears slid down his cheeks. Words sunk into his hay-wire thoughts– Kuroba was scared–? Scared, but why–? Why would he be _scared–? For him no less? _

He shifted, lifting his hands to grip Kaito's arms and push him away–

"I–"

"No, shut up, don't say anything," he snapped, dark blue eyes flickered to glare at Shinichi. Questions fell back down his throat and the detective grumpily closed his mouth. There was a satisfied grunt and Kaito brought his forehead to rest against Shinichi's, eyes shut and brows furrowed.

Kaito was struggling with his words, like he was unsure of whether breathing or talking was the better choice. After a few shaky breaths, the words slipped out barely above a whisper. Desperation had pooled in the sapphire eyes and Shinichi's shoulders tensed– _because since when did Kuroba ever look so lost –?_

"I don't want you to get hurt anymore. So please. Don't."

Lips softly tickled the corner of his mouth, and cautiously pressed over his. It was gentler and Shinichi's fingers curled into the fabric of Kaito's shirt. There was a lingering pressure on his mouth before Kaito pulled away.

"Please–"

"But–" Shinichi pushed him back, mind blanking. His face felt hot, he didn't know why heat erupted on his cheeks or why the closeness was turning his words into a puddle. His eyes were determined to glare at the floor rather than meet Kaito's eyes. "I don't… understand why—"

There was a deafening silence and Shinichi saw Kaito's jaw drop and his eye twitch.

"God, do I have to spell it out for you?" Kaito's forehead was off his within a second. Instead, he was planting his face into his palms.

Shinichi blinked curiously, eyes now relatively dry. The heat remained in his face even after Kaito broke away. "What–?"

"I mean– I even _kissed_ you–" Shinichi could only blink as he watched Kuroba fight with his words. His college friend started pacing within the row of bookshelves, hands waving around. "– and you still–"

Words defeated him and Kaito grumbled before he turned to face Shinichi with an irritated look and flushed redness blooming on his cheeks. Shinichi's shoulders twitched when he took a purposeful step towards him and closed the gap–

His brain fizzed out as a tongue pried his mouth open and slipped in– much like the first time but this time he was gentler and coaxing. Shinichi was pressed back into the shelves and his hands again fisted Kaito's shirt– he was suffocating him but Shinichi didn't mind because it was mind-numbing _good_–?

"I love you, Shinichi."

And when Kaito withdrew, his face still flushed red with irritation and something else and the detective stared, eyes wide and face blank. "That's why I care. Do you get it now?"

Love? That was– _love_? He loved him– what? Then what Kid– no, Kuroba– was saying last night about the bandages, and the criminals, and the lips on his mouth before he gassed him with the cloth–

"Just then…" Shinichi turned dark red as his hand flew to cover his mouth. And everything that happened earlier, the hurt, the worry, his mouth on his– everything fell on him like a dead weight and it made _sense_.

"That…that was a kiss? You…were kissing me."

"Are you…kidding me?"

Kaito's anticipation deflated, his legs listlessly carried him a few steps before he crumpled against the shelf next to Shinichi with a defeated sigh. "God… _oh god_, you win. Fine. You win. Do whatever you want. I don't care anymore."

Shinichi looked down at him breathlessly, face flaring and heart pounding. It took a few moments for the shock to wash over him. "But you said—"

Kuroba laughed dryly, shaking his head before looking at the floor ahead of him. "I… yeah, I love you. I like you too much, Kudou." There was a lifeless chuckle as Kaito reached to scratch his neck. "I couldn't take it. The bandages and all that."

He quirked his lips into an apologetic simper. "Guess I went a bit overboard. Sorry about bothering you—"

Shinichi swallowed slowly. The defeated tone in Kaito's voice was grinding guilt into his mind. He was apologizing for something he didn't even do– it was never really his fault in the first place, was it?

This was just misdirected anger and he used Kaito as a scapegoat for his frustrations. It wasn't him; it was Shinichi and his broken pride, Shinichi and his obsession with competence that he'd ignore the accumulating bruises that sat on his skin for days on end. And he lashed at someone who bothered to _care_.

The guilt ate at him, but words failed him. Kaito brushed a hand over his eyes and laughed quietly, mockingly, under his breath. "Uhm, just forget about this, Kudou. I didn't mean to piss you off like that. I'm sorry—"

He let loose a deep sigh with a watery edge to it. Shinichi tilted his head slightly, eyes falling to watch his friend shake his head slowly.

In the end, this was the result of broken pride rearing its ugly head at the wrong person.

The detective sank to the ground next to him, ignoring the slight pain when the uneven books jutted out and scraped his back as he slid down. Shinichi gripped his knees and peered over at the quiet and eerily still Kuroba.

There was a depressing droop in Kaito's shoulders and a shudder in his breath. And Shinichi felt like a bastard for verbally cussing out a friend who wanted to help him. Only time would heal broken pride and the wounds from incompetence, but to know that someone accepted him regardless of his incapability and ugly bruises–

His face warmed slightly at the thought.

Shinichi gently nudged him on the side with an elbow. "Nn."

Kaito peeled his hand away from his face, but kept his eyes on the ground. A weak smile lingered on the corner of his lips.

"I…" Shinichi leaned against Kaito's shoulder softly, arms wrapped around his knees. "…just… um. Next time… don't be late."

He felt Kaito shift and saw his head tilt a bit. His voice was hopeful and wondering– "Then you accept me?"

Shinichi blinked slowly, his eyes glued forward, staring at nothing in particular.

"…hm?"

Kuroba sighed loudly and ducked his head between his propped knees. But he leaned back, shoulders gently pressing against his. A comforting warmth spread across the expanse of his cheek and Shinichi shut his eyes tiredly, peacefully–

"Do you feel the same way–?"

"What do you mean by that?"

There was silence on Kaito's part and then another defeated sigh.

"Never mind."

–

There was a knock on the door at five in the morning and Shinichi wasn't happy to get it. The banging was loud and rude and he wondered why the hell he even bothered.

After trying to bury himself under his bed sheet covers and will himself back to sleep, the banging continued to persist until it felt like the windows of the entire house were going to fall out–

_Goddammit, it was five in the morning, and the damn knocking will wake up the neighbors– _

With a sigh, Shinichi stepped into his fluffy slippers and lazily made his way downstairs, dragging his foot across the floor. He reached the door, appearance messily thrown together, eyes barely half-open, and opened it to see monocle, stupid grin, and _white_ standing on his front step.

"What…are you doing?"

There was a light breeze against his face as the white fabric of his cape was unfurled.

"Well, I decided that you had yet to have _Tokyo's most-wanted_ at your door, and so here I am." He smirked cockily and held out his wrists with a dazzling smile. "I'll be the only criminal you can arrest without being socked in the face."

Shinichi stared groggily at him, hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I woke up just to be insulted?"

"Meitantei-kun, come on–" Kid's arms fell slightly. He pouted when the detective decided to stand there and half-sleep on him. "You have to admit that it's kind of–"

_Clink_.

Kid froze as Shinichi whipped out a cellphone in a routine manner. A single beep sounded– he had the police on speed dial. With a deadpan look, Shinichi placed the phone to his ear. "Megure-keibu, I believe I caught the offender, the bastard who was leaving all the criminals on the door–"

"H-Hey, I was joking, Shinichi–"

The detective's eyes shifted and regarded the retired thief who was trying to fumble his way out from the specially-made, Kid-proof handcuffs that Shinichi had snapped on him. Kid had that face of pure horror when he realized that _he couldn't get them off._

The detective shut the phone with a loud click, and proceeded to grab Kid's flapping cape. With a sharp tug, Shinichi proceeded to drag him in. "Mm. Next time you decide to joke around, do it when it's not five in the morning."

The heavy door slammed behind them and Kid, still cuffed, was tugged by his cape further inside and up the stairs– He stumbled a bit trying to maneuver around so that he fell in step with the detective.

"So…" Kid started, but Shinichi's eyes were nearly shut, legs mechanically walking him back to the warm comforts of his bed. There was an awkward stretch of silence, and the thief piped. "Where are we going?"

Shinichi didn't bother to look back as he kicked open his bedroom door, the back bounced off the wall.

"We're going to sleep, you idiot."

–

–Just to tie up loose ends:

1. Shinichi will never fully feel confident and competent in his abilities (although in the eyes of everyone, he is brilliant. To himself...eh.;) However, we can take assurance that since this whole misunderstanding is cleared, Kaito will be there for him since he's allowed to openly care for Shinichi rather than hide out under the disguise of Kid. It's Shinichi's nature to set high goals, and Kaito's compassion to keep Shinichi from jumping off a cliff if he can't meet them. Shinichi would still feel bad about letting criminals get away, but it won't drive him to the edge of depression, 'cus Kaito is there. 8D

2. Yes, Shinichi doesn't know that kiss was a kiss until Kaito told him it was. Can someone be that dense–? Shhh, in this fic, Shinichi can be. -shot-

–

A/N: And that is the end of it! 8D This would actually be my first chaptered fic– and yes, I ate my words about not writing chapped fics. Oh wells, I'm very very glad that the story has been well received and I'm very honored to have so much people follow, fave, and review! ;A;

I would like to thank the following people for being my constant support who gave me me their wonderful opinions: nightpounce, califlair, twilley, pickletea! Thank you guys so much for beta'ing my chapters as well as providing me with in-depth feedback on what parts I can improve and what I should do. ;A; SO THANK YOU GUYS. -hugs-

AND THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR STAYING WITH ME THROUGHOUT THE COURSE OF THESE FIVE CHAPTERS~

So, repeating what I said up there: **_there will be no more chapters for__ this. This is the end. _****_I'm writing to only resolve the entire misunderstanding between them, not to create a love story out of it. 8D Rather, please treat this as the beginning of a love story and use your imagination to continue it._**** I'm not going to continue this, and no amount of reviews asking for a continuation is going to change anything.**

**So please don't give me reviews that mainly consist of: "Please continue this!" or "Is there going to be a sequel?" or "-wishes this was longer. ;A;-"**

Because as much as I love getting reviews, I rather know what your thoughts of the story is, what parts did you like, which parts killed your soul, etc. ;u;' Thoughtful reviews make me really happy~

So nope! There will be no sequel. But there are chaptered fics planned, when will they be posted? Not sure, but keep watch~ 8D

Thank you so much again everyone! And have a great day~


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